Chapter 11: The Massacre

After breakfast, the three young men were gathered in the square. Several rows of racks had already been set up there, brimming with an array of weapons. From daggers and greatswords to pistols and rocket launchers, from cold weapons to firearms, it was a dazzling display, covering everything one could imagine.

Lieutenant Ron stood with his legs together, hands behind his back, exuding a commanding presence with a simple military stance. He flashed a grin, revealing teeth that struck fear into the boys. "Congratulations," he said. "At least two of you will survive the next sixty days. Let's not waste any more time. Starting today, we will introduce new courses. The first is combat techniques; I will teach you the art of killing. The second is source energy training, enabling you to refine stronger source energy, forming more source energy vortices, thereby increasing your chances of leaving the camp."

The boys exchanged glances. There was a palpable tension between Mao and Allen, almost sparking in the air. However, the last girl, Mary, who had ignited her source energy, avoided eye contact with the boys, her gaze flickering.

"Alright, let's start with combat training today. Before class, you may choose any weapon you like from the racks." Ron stepped aside, revealing the arsenal to the three youngsters.

Allen, who had never seen so many weapons, felt overwhelmed by the variety. The black boy raised his hand for Ron's advice, "Lieutenant, what would you recommend?"

Ron replied gravely, "My advice is to trust your instincts. Select the weapon that calls to you, as it often reveals your natural talent in a particular area."

As the lieutenant spoke, Allen moved towards the section with cold weapons and eventually picked out a black steel greatsword, taller than himself. The sword was rectangular, with a total length of 150 cm and a 30 cm grip, which could be held with one or both hands. The blade was 25 cm wide, 3 cm thick, yet weighed only 50 kg.

Given its size and thickness, it should have weighed more, indicating some special craftsmanship. The long handle was painted dark red, contrasting sharply with the pitch-black blade. The blade had dark, decorative patterns along the edges, possibly serving another purpose.

For a ten-year-old, 50 kg was not light, but having ignited his source energy, Allen was now a Level 1 Source Energy User. According to the Source Energy Manual, each level doubled one's physical strength. So, this weight was manageable for Allen.

Allen chose this sword because he saw a faint, gentle glow on it. The light flickered like a candle flame in the wind, always seeming about to extinguish. Though weak, it was the only weapon exuding source energy among the array.

Next, Mao and Mary also selected their weapons. The black boy chose a sniper rifle, seemingly in love with it, while Mary picked a pair of automatic pistols, appearing to have chosen them at random.

After the three had chosen their weapons, Ron signaled, and several soldiers quickly packed up and removed the weapon racks. The lieutenant then stood between Mao and Mary, saying, "You two are smart. While firearms, especially powder-based ones, have limited roles in high-level combat, they are still advantageous in the early stages, especially in the Death Arena. For instance, Mao's sniper rifle has a range of 1200 meters. With precise shooting skills and environmental advantages, Mao could easily take down both of you."

Mao, feeling proud of the lieutenant's praise, glanced at Allen, a hint of provocation in his eyes.

"As for you," the lieutenant addressed Allen, "you've chosen an unsuitable weapon, but you have a good eye..."

Ron left his words hanging and called over two instructors, saying to Mao and Mary, "Follow these instructors. They will teach you basic shooting skills."

"White-haired kid, come with me," Ron said to Allen. "The weapon you've chosen can only be taught by me."

Ron led Allen to the air-defense hall where he had ignited his source energy. After personally closing the steel doors, Ron, wary of anyone observing their lesson, beckoned Allen over and had him hand over the greatsword.

Ron caressed the cold blade with his fingers, saying, "This is a surprise. I intended to use this big guy as a teaching aid, but you chose it yourself. Konov might roll in his grave knowing his weapon is being used by a kid..."

Stabbing the greatsword into the ground, Ron leaned on it, saying, "Listen, kid. This sword belonged to a former comrade. Since you've chosen it, it's yours now. Konov called it 'The Massacre' because he once slaughtered an entire predatory tribe with it."

Allen's pupils dilated, his source energy vortex speeding up. He instantly adored this weapon, purely because it had tasted the blood of predators.

"Don't get too excited," Ron smirked. "You seem frail, but there's a fierce spirit in you. That's good; having a fighting spirit is beneficial. But right now, you can't unleash The Massacre's true power. You can only use it as a regular cold weapon. Do you know why? Because it has an official name: Level One Magi-blade."

"Magi-blade?" Allen looked confused.

"Indeed. Inside it, there's a micro magic sequence. It uses new energy. When you activate this sequence, The Massacre releases an additional half-meter of energy blade. In combat, this extra half-meter will boost your attack efficiency by about 40%, and it's unstoppable."

Allen was eager to try.

Ron was pleased with his enthusiasm but poured cold water on him, saying, "But remember, it's called a Level One Magi-blade for a reason. It requires at least one source energy circuit to activate. Each level, or 'Gear,' corresponds to the source energy required. The highest-grade magi-weapons currently reach Gear Twenty."

Seeing Allen's earlier excitement fade, Ron's mood lightened. "Don't lose heart. Once you refine nine source energy vortices and construct one source energy circuit, you can harness The Massacre's true power." He pulled the greatsword from the ground and tossed it to Allen. "Until you can activate its magic sequence, I'll teach you some basic combat skills. Combined with The Massacre's sharpness and weight, it'll be enough to handle those two."

Ron examined the sword again. "The Massacre has a rectangular blade, not suitable for stabbing. That leaves us with the Crescent Moon."

"Crescent Moon?" Allen asked, puzzled. "Is that a combat technique?"

"Yes, Crescent Moon is a leg-based combat skill. Using the waist and heel as a vertical axis, it allows powerful sweeping kicks from any angle while maintaining balance. The sweeping motion resembles a crescent moon, hence the name." Ron's expression turned serious. "Crescent Moon, thrusts, and other techniques make up the 'Ten Strikes,' a set of combat skills refined from countless battles during the Dawn War. The Ten Strikes are considered the essence of all combat skills. Even the renowned fighters today built their unique styles upon the Ten Strikes."

Ron then demonstrated the Crescent Moon kick on an iron mannequin, maintaining a suitable distance. He grounded himself with one foot and swept the other leg, decapitating the mannequin with a sharp whistle. The move was simple yet deadly, emphasizing speed, precision, and lethality.

"This is a single Crescent Moon. Now, watch as I combine multiple Crescent Moons..." Ron rapidly executed a series of sweeping kicks, his legs alternating in a storm of attacks.

Allen watched in awe as the seemingly simple sweeps combined into a complex assault. When Ron finished, the mannequin was in pieces. If it were a person, their bones would be shattered.

Repetitive actions, different angles, and constant balance—this was the essence of Ron's Crescent Moon technique.